


Converse

by Fire_Sign



Series: Phrack Fucking Fridays [5]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, pff, union suit smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: Reunion union suit union-ing for PFF!





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be union suit porn and a followup to last months's fic (where Phryne and Jack sleep together the night of Dot's wedding), but somehow in 2000 words the connection was never made explicit. So it can be read that way or not, but thematically--not talking during the act to keep it from being real, and this is all talking--it is there at least? And the title is definitely not a joke with the double meaning of "to talk" and "to have sex with". Definitely not. I would not do such a thing.

She met him on the docks, naturally, unwilling to wait even a second longer to see him again; he swept her into his arms with a hello, a smile bursting through his usually stern gaze. Then he kissed her, tender and assertive and so incredibly happy that she could feel the smile refuse to leave his lips even as he did so. 

Eventually she pulled away, laughing.

“Hello to you too. How was the trip?”

“Long,” he replied dryly. “How was the flight?”

“I consider the fact that nobody died to be an accomplishment.”

He was still smiling, and not for the first time she marvelled at how it transformed his face. Removing one leather glove, she touched his cheek, then let her hand drop to the breast of his heavy wool coat he’d donned to face an English winter. The hat was the same though, and the eyes beneath its brim were the same changeable colour. 

“Come home with me,” she said, and he tilted his head slightly, his smile turning teasing.

“I hadn’t made hotel reservations,” was his reply. 

“You know what I meant,” she scolded, even though she didn’t really understand it herself. 

She led him to the motorcar--not quite as fine as her beloved Hispano, but it went fast enough--and climbed behind the wheel. The talked about everything as they drove to the townhouse; she had not realised how much she had come to thrive off their conversations until she was left without them; to have him there with her, teasing and responding and _there_ … It meant more than she had been able to imagine. So they talked. Endlessly. About things that didn’t really matter except that they were shared, and things that did matter were left unvoiced but palpable. When they arrived at the townhouse, Phryne parked and led him to the door.

“No staff?” he asked as she unlocked it.

“I had them make up some meals and gave them the day off,” she said, stepping inside. He followed, dropping his bag beside the door and glancing around the hall as she took off her coat. “I thought you might appreciate the privacy.”

She reached up to remove his hat, feeling the tension in his body relax at the revelation they were alone. She placed the hat on the rack, then turned her attentions to his coat.

“This is a very handsome coat,” she said conversationally, toying with a button before slipping it through the hole.

“I paid a very handsome price,” he replied.

“You didn’t need to, you know. I was coming home.”

Another button.

“Not soon enough. Besides, you asked so nicely.”

“I blurted it out and teased you mercilessly.”

“Precisely, Miss Fisher.”

And another.

“You may just be entirely mad.”

“There is a distinct possibility.”

“I may just be entirely mad.”

“Also a distinct possibility.”

Two buttons, and the coat fell open to reveal his suit, jacket buttoned against the cold.

“Well, I suppose if we’re both mad…” she said, smiling up at him through her lashes as she slipped the coat from his shoulders.

“We ought to seek medical attention immediately in hopes of a cure?”

Phryne laughed.

“If you feel the need to be cured--”

He kissed her again, urgent now, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. 

“I really, really don’t,” he growled. “I’ll suffer my affliction for as long as possible.”

“Jack--”

“I’m not asking for promises, Phryne,” he said, moving away from her mouth to kiss her throat; her fingers flexed into the wool of his suit.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” she said, voice dry. “I was _going_ to say that I love you.”

He actually froze, and Phryne pulled away slightly to meet his eyes.

“I have no idea what this means, Jack. But I wanted it to be absolutely and completely clear that regardless of… whatever else comes along or how this plays out, I do love you.”

Her smile was slightly crooked, her voice slightly shaky, but when he looked at her with wonder in his eyes she was certain in her choice. 

“I don’t expect you to--”

“I love you,” he rushed out, nearly tripping over the syllables, and she laughed.

“I did have my suspicions. That’s not what I was waiting to hear.”

Her voice was teasing, her lips curling into a smirk of challenge.

“Something else then?”

“Definitely something else.”

“You look beautiful today, Miss Fisher?” he guessed, hands roving once more.

“True, but no.”

“Let’s go upstairs so I can fuck you senseless?”

“Again, good, and if I had thought you were likely to say it it might have been on the list, but not quite right.”

His hands were beneath her blouse now, caressing her breasts until she wanted to whimper.

“ _Can_ we go upstairs so I can fuck you senseless?” he asked, chuckling. “Not a guess, by the way.”

“No, but it’s a rather marvelous suggestion.”

She tugged him towards the stairs by his lapels, and gasped as he swept her off her feet to carry her up.

“Not what I was expecting, Jack.”

“I suspect my back will regret it tomorrow,” he groaned, shifting her slightly, “but at least I know where your hands are this way. I’m not sure I trust you to get all the way upstairs without some sort of surprise.”

“Probably for the best,” she admitted. “I have been waiting to get my hands on you for such a long time…”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Ohh, getting warmer.”

He frowned in confusion, and even that tiny expression was endearing; she kissed his cheek.

“First door on the left, by the way.”

“Thank you. That had the potential to be embarrassing.”

He mounted the final step and pushed open the door, then dropped her softly to her feet before stepping through. It took her a second to realise what he had done--sidestepping the implications of carrying her over the threshold without a second thought, the sort of consideration she expected from him; she grinned cheekily and grabbed his ass.

“You really can’t trust me,” she said, sashaying past him into the room and towards the bed. “Now where were we?”

“You had removed my coat and I was trying to remember if I could recall how to acquit myself with any dignity.”

“You were doing an admirable job, as _I_ recall,” she purred, stepping flush against him and fingering his tie. “But I think you could…” she popped open a button on his suit jacket with a quick flick of her wrist, “be a little more disheveled.”

The she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at the softness.

“I adore your hair,” she said. 

He gave her a bemused smile, toying with the ends of her own smooth bob as she undid the rest of the jacket and pushed it from his shoulders. 

“Is it a particular feature I’m to admire?” he asked; she had almost forgotten the game.

“No. Though if you were inclined to enumerate my many wonderful qualities, I would not say no.”

Jack leant forward, his breath tickling against the shell of her ear.

“I could, but then we’d be here all afternoon and well into evening,” he whispered. “And _then_ I would be required to list your aggravating qualities as well, and we’d never make it to the bed.”

“That would be a tragedy,” she agreed, attempting to keep a straight face as she tugged his tie out of his waistcoat. “Best avoid it altogether.”

“So what is it then?”

“It doesn’t count if I tell you, Jack,” she said, flinging the unknotted tie across the room. “You’ll have to keep guessing.”

He gave a discontented murmur as he pulled her blouse up and off, then her camisole.

“You’re beautiful,” he said as he looked at her, and she intended to tease him that he’d already guessed that, but his sincerity was too much. His hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs stroking the skin just above her waistband. “Utterly and amazingly beautiful.”

“So are you,” she replied, leaning up to brush her lips against his. “And wearing far too many layers.”

With a deft hand she undid his waistcoat, then unfastened the braces underneath. He moved them both towards the bed, kissing her the entire way. Shimmying out of her trousers, Phryne tossed them aside, along with her knickers, and came to kneel on the bed. 

“Focus, Jack,” she said. “The game is over if I get you naked before you guess.”

“Funny, I don’t recall hearing that rule.”

“I didn’t want to put you under any…” she cupped him, “unnecessary pressure.” 

“Too late. It’s a matter of pride now.”

She tugged his shirttails from his trousers, then walked her fingers up his torso to rest on the first button.

“Would it be so terrible, losing to me?” she asked coyly.

“My pride would never recover,” he said, his delivery so dry it could be used for kindling.

“It’s not that bad,” she teased, beginning to work on the buttons. When the shirt gaped open to reveal his union suit beneath, she groaned. "I know I call you buttoned up, Jack, but this is just ridiculous."

“It was cold,” he said defensively, and Phryne actually giggled in response. “Here, just stay there and I’ll--” he began to work on his cufflinks, then removed the shirt, followed by his trousers. 

His fingers--his long, elegant fingers--fumbled slightly over the small buttons of his union suit, and Phryne chewed her bottom lip as she watched. She’d fantasised about those hands so many times, had felt them so few but always so memorably; mesmerised by their movements, she followed them down as they uncovered glimpses of skin. Eyes drifting slightly lower, she noted the ample evidence of his arousal.

Leaning forward, she slipped one hand into the open suit, stroking the smooth skin of his erection. His eyelids fluttered at the sensation, but he regained control of himself.

“Miss Fisher,” he said with his best approximation of a scolding tone, “I am attempting to undress.”

She released his cock, trailing her hand instead upward; pushing the fabric back, she revealed his shoulder, the top of his arm. She bit it gently, soothed the skin with her tongue, did the same to the other side. Dropped the suit to his waist, then used the bunched material to draw him closer; his stomach was on level with her mouth, and she dipped her tongue into his navel.

“Phryne!”

She glanced up at him, her mouth in a charming moue she doubted he could resist. 

“Take it off, Jack,” she said quietly, and he nodded slowly as he dropped it the rest of the way--revealing his straining cock, his thighs, his calves, all so beautiful--and stepped out. 

She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his length and stroking softly.

“I’ve dreamt about doing this for so long,” she whispered, knowing the warmth of her breath would feel fantastic.

“Me too,” he agreed, voice strained.

“What did you dream about, Jack? My hand? My mouth? All of me, wet and wanting you?”

“Want _you_ ,” he panted. 

“Well, I _was_ hoping for a little more articulate than that,” she said, stroking him again; he closed his eyes and arched toward her touch, utterly lost for words. “But as you still have your socks on, I suppose you win.”

“Phryne…” he warned. “Phryne, I’m not going to--”

She put her mouth on him, running her tongue along his length while he shuddered.

“Can’t… can’t think. Phryne, please, please--” 

She stroked his perineum, dragged her fingernails across his thigh.

“You’re still holding on, Jack,” she scolded. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

On another day, he probably would have raised an eyebrow and quipped, “What, my begging?” in a tone that made it clear he was doing so under protest, but he was too far gone to do more than nod, his eyes saying everything his mouth was incapable of. 

_I want you._

_I want this._

_I want us._

She wrapped her lips around his cock and gave him what they both wanted.


End file.
